


Wyoming

by theramblinrose



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post Season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26820946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theramblinrose/pseuds/theramblinrose
Summary: Caryl, Post-Season 10, somewhat AU?  Lydia and Dog are here, too.  “What’s in Wyoming?”  “If we’re lucky?  Every damn thing any of us ever dreamed about.”
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Wyoming

AN: I have no reason for this, I’m just having some feelings, and I wanted to write it.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl pulled the bike to a stop and, for a moment, Carol stayed practically plastered to his back. 

“You OK?” He asked.

“My ass and legs are asleep,” she said, laughing quietly. Her voice sounded as though she were almost asleep. He’d stopped, probably, in the nick of time. Falling asleep on the bike could be dangerous. Daryl patted her hand, and then he squeezed her hand in his. He was just getting used to the fact that he had that right, any time he wanted to exercise it.

“Come on,” he said. “This place’ll do for the night.”

The place in question was an old house not too far off the road. They had found safer places and, ultimately, they would find somewhere safer to stay—somewhere with fences—but this place would do for the night. 

“I’ll help you clear it,” Carol said with a sigh as soon as she’d found her feet. 

She looked exhausted in the quickly failing light of day. It was a different kind of exhaustion, though, than he’d grown accustomed to seeing on her features. This was the exhaustion that came from finally putting down something that was too heavy—something she’d been carrying for far too long.

“I can do it on my own,” he said, but there was no need to have even said the words. She was already headed toward the house. Daryl followed after her and called out a “careful” to her before she put her foot on the first step. “Could be rotted.”

She thanked him for the reminder by tapping her foot against the boards and testing for their strength. Slowly she made her way up the steps, noting that the wood was strong enough to hold her. 

Eventually, Daryl would like for them to find a house. He’d like for them to find somewhere with a decent fence. He’d like to find some solar panels for their own little grid. They’d build greenhouses and plant gardens. They’d find animals.

They talked about New Mexico, and maybe that was where they’d end up, but they weren’t really sold on New Mexico. Maybe they’d look for somewhere greener. Maybe they’d just keep travelling until they found the spot that cried out to them that they were home. It didn’t matter where they ended up—not as long as it could support their dreams.

They had other dreams, too. They had some that they doubted would ever come true—at least not completely. They had some that they only talked about in hushed voices during quiet hours that belonged just to the two of them.

Those hours were new to them. They’d wasted so much time—time they didn’t have to have wasted if they’d been brave enough. If he’d been brave enough. Their dreams, some of them at least, might not seem quite so impossible if he hadn’t wasted so much time.

There was no use in crying over spilled hourglass sand, though. 

They would keep their dreams, ridiculous or not, and share them with each other in those quiet hours. They would make the best of the time they had left. They would live their lives to the fullest. They would live—together—the best that they could.

The house was quiet. Empty. There weren’t any Walkers to clean out and there was no evidence that there ever had been. The house had been empty, apparently, at the time of the turn. Whoever had lived there, maybe, had gone for help or sought a safe place early on. It was impossible to know if they’d ever made it, but Daryl hoped they had.

Now that he found his love, and now that he was daring to dream of a life—a whole, real, full life—he hoped that everyone could have just what they wanted. He hoped they could taste love, and happiness, and hope, and fulfillment on their tongues like he felt like he tasted every day now.

He hoped everyone could feel the warmth that he felt burning in his chest.

“It’s a cute little house,” Carol mused.

“You want one like this? When we get where we goin’?” 

Carol hummed. 

“What about Wyoming?” She asked.

“What?” 

“Wyoming,” she said. “What if we didn’t go to New Mexico. What if we went to—Wyoming?” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“What’s in Wyoming?” He asked.

Carol shrugged.

“I remember seeing it on a movie once,” she said. “It was beautiful. It seemed so big. So full of—space.”

“We got all the space we want, these days, damn near anywhere we go.” 

Carol laughed to herself and shrugged again. The further they got from Georgia, the younger she looked. The lighter she looked. And the happier she looked.

Maybe Wyoming wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“We could probably find that little cabin we talked about in Wyoming,” she mused. “Wyoming seems like the kind of place that would have cabins like that.”

Daryl smiled to himself.

“I kinda like Wyoming,” he offered, stepping out the house. She followed after him. They walked down the porch and toward the road. “You don’t think she’s gone too far, do you? Missed us…?”

“Not at the speed she was driving,” Carol mused.

“Think I ought to—circle back? Ride up the road a piece? Make sure she ain’t run into trouble?” 

Carol smiled to herself. 

“She wants a little independence,” Carol said. “And the road’s been clear for—where are we, even?” 

Daryl shrugged.

“Mississippi? Arkansas? Hell if I know.” 

“It’s been clear since Alabama,” Carol said.

“Maybe I’ll just walk down to the road,” Daryl said, “make sure she sees us. Knows we turned off here.” 

Daryl didn’t have to walk down to the road, though. Just as he was getting the words out of his mouth that solidified his plans, the familiar SUV came rolling into sight. It was barely moving at a speed worth mentioning—given that the driver was still relatively new to the skill and nervous about it—but it slowed smoothly before the driveway. The house was just off the road and it wasn’t hard to see them or the bike.

Out of the passenger side window, Dog hung his head and happily panted at the passing landscape. He yipped when he noticed them, but didn’t make any effort to leave his seat, riding shotgun from Georgia.

Lydia turned the SUV into the driveway with a great deal more care than was really necessary. She crept down the short driveway at a speed that hardly registered above idle, stopped by the bike, and was out of the vehicle as soon as she turned the engine off. Dog followed her, out of the driver’s side door.

Immediately, she rushed into Carol’s arms, and Daryl turned away to keep from having either of them tease him, as they occasionally did, about the fact that they said his smile was larger, now, than they’d ever seen it before. Lydia called him “Cheesy” in a teasing manner when she caught him smiling, but he allowed it the same way that he allowed Carol to call him Pookie.

He pretended to hate both nicknames, but he knew that neither Lydia nor Carol believed him. 

Daryl walked to the SUV, opened the back, and started pulling things out—their bags of personal items and a box of food and assorted things they’d need for the night. Lydia wrapped her arms around him, hugging him from the back, before she accepted something to carry inside. Carol, too, accepted what he handed her, and he insisted that he’d come back for the rest once they were settled inside.

It was getting late. Carol would start the food. Daryl would bring up water from the little creek they’d been following for a while—the reason that they’d chosen this house was its proximity to the water. They’d get some sleep before long to make the most of the next day.

It would seem, after all, that they were heading for Wyoming to see if, by chance, they could find a life there—and maybe a few of the dreams that they shared between them in hushed whispers at night.

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“You need anything?” Daryl asked.

Carol was soaking, with her eyes closed, in the hot water that filled the tub. She’d insisted that a bucket bath was good enough for her, and Daryl didn’t need to put himself out by hauling extra buckets of water inside and filling up the other two tubs as storage, but seeing her relaxing the way she was told him that he’d have hauled water for ten hours straight just to see her like that.

The bath seemed to be washing away years as surely as it was washing away dirt.

In the flickering light of the oil lamp, Daryl could see her breasts through the water. He had to turn away from them—to stop looking—because the glimpse of them, alone, could make him as hard as a teenager seeing his first nipple. 

And he didn’t want to rush her out of her hot bath. He wanted her to relax. He wanted her to feel good. There was plenty of time for her to make him feel good—and he knew she would. She always did.

“Mmm mmm,” she hummed. “I’m fine.” She turned and smiled at him. “You good?” 

“Great, woman,” he said. “Can’t remember when I been better.” 

She smiled at that. 

“Good,” she said. She groaned, a satisfied and happy groan. That sound escaping her throat went ahead and pushed him into the aroused state he’d been trying to avoid. He grimaced slightly to himself. He’d walk it off, for now. He’d go and smoke and think about the most disgusting ass shit he’d seen since the whole world had turned into what it was now.

He used to think the world had gone to hell. 

It had, in a lot of ways. They’d lost and they’d suffered—both of them had.

But he believed it would get better. He believed they were on their way to something good for both of them. They were on their way to getting everything they ever wanted—to as many of those dreams as they could possibly find.

They were on their way to Wyoming.

“Thank you for the bath, Pookie,” Carol said softly, smiling at him.

Daryl’s face ached. He smiled without even realizing that’s what he was doing. 

“Enjoy it,” he said. “I’ll be back. I’ma go—smoke. Let Dog piss. Say goodnight to Lydia.” 

“Say goodnight to her for me?” Carol requested. He hummed that he would. She’d said goodnight to the girl before she’d come up for her bath, but Daryl would tell Lydia goodnight again. It would mean a lot to her.

She was nearly grown in some ways, but in others she was still so much a child. She hadn’t experienced much of what she dreamed of experiencing, but maybe she would now—one day at a time.

“I’ll tell her. You just relax,” Daryl said.

“I’ll be here waiting for you when you come back,” Carol offered. “I’ll help you relax.”

Daryl shivered as his body fully appreciated both the implications of the seemingly innocent words and the quality of Carol’s voice as she said them. He was so overwhelmed by them that he couldn’t voice an actual response, but she didn’t seem to need it. She laughed quietly to herself at the sounds that escaped him and settled back into her water with a sigh.

Downstairs, Daryl let Dog out to do his business. He lit a cigarette and walked back and forth across the length of the yard, just in front of the house, while he waited. He kept his ears open for the sounds of Walkers or anything else that might be lurking around, but he was pretty sure that they were out there alone.

The night was still, and Daryl wondered what Wyoming might be like. He wondered what their cabin would be like—if that’s what they found to call a home. He wondered, too, what their life might be like. He was only willing, at the moment, to entertain the best of possible scenarios.

When Dog was done, and had chuffed his way through all the bushes warning off any woodland creature that might think of threatening his people, he happily trotted inside with Daryl for the night. He chose a spot on the couch for his bed, and Daryl mounted the steps to the room that Lydia had chosen, carrying an oil lamp with him. 

The room was dark, and Daryl peeked inside before entering. Lydia was in the bed, so he walked over and adjusted the blankets, pulling them up. 

“Is Carol taking her bath?” Lydia asked.

Daryl smiled. 

“Thought you were asleep.”

“I was waiting on you. Is Carol taking her bath?” 

“She is.”

“Is she enjoying it?” 

Daryl smiled to himself.

“She is.”

“Are we staying here for long?” 

“Just ‘til mornin’,” Daryl said. “Long way to go, and we wanna get there ‘fore it gets too cold. How was the car on gas when you got out?” 

“Half a tank.” 

“We’ll find more in the morning,” Daryl said. “Listen—we might have a change of plans.” 

“Change of plans?” 

“How do you feel about—Wyoming?” 

“What’s in Wyoming?” Lydia asked. 

“If we’re lucky? Every damn thing any of us ever dreamed about.” 

“I like Wyoming,” Lydia said, smiling softly at Daryl in the flickering light. He patted her hand.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too. Get some sleep. Got a lot of drivin’ to do tomorrow.” 

“Daryl—will you kiss Carol goodnight for me?” 

“Yeah,” Daryl assured her. “She sent you a goodnight, too.”

“You can tell her I got it,” Lydia said with a smile.

“I will,” he said. “Go to sleep now.” 

Daryl left the room, cracking the door because Lydia preferred not to sleep with the door entirely closed. He made his way to the room that they’d claimed for their own. There was already a lamp flickering there, and his lamp only added to the light.

Carol was sitting on the edge of the bed in a light cotton nightgown—one that would be too light as the cold weather closed in around them. She was braiding her hair.

Daryl’s heart thumped out a reminder to him of how much he loved her.

“Lydia asleep?” 

“She sent you a kiss goodnight. She’s sleepin’ now. Dog, too,” Daryl said. “Quiet outside. Nothin’ but us out here.” 

“If we don’t find anyone else, that’s how it’s always going to be,” Carol said. “Would you be OK with that, Daryl?” 

“We’re enough,” Daryl said. “We always have been.” 

Carol smiled to herself. 

“Maybe Wyoming will be quiet,” she mused. “Peaceful.” She looked at him with those big, blue eyes. Daryl’s heart thundered in his chest. She was beautiful. And she was his—his woman. And they were going to find a life, and to chase down whatever dreams this world could possibly hold for them, in Wyoming. 

They were going to spend the rest of their lives together.

“Daryl—come to bed?” She asked. 

He smiled to himself. 

“You ain’t gotta ask but once,” he said, heading toward the nightstand to put down the lamp and undress. “I’ll give you whatever you want, woman—from here on out.” 

“I love you,” she breathed out, climbing under the cover to wait for him.

“I love you, too,” he assured her. Blowing out the lamp. He moved to join her under the cover.

“You’re sure you don’t mind—not going to New Mexico?” She asked, wrapping her arms around him and hooking one bare leg over his hip. He could feel the warmth of her as she drew close to him, inviting him in—inviting him home. 

“I’d go anywhere with you,” Daryl assured her, his hands beginning their tour of her body—she’d given him permission and freedom for them to roam however they might like. He moved closer to her, one hand trailing down to test the warm and welcoming wetness that she’d promised would be waiting on him. Daryl had heard others, in his life, complain about the boring repetition of only having one woman for the rest of their lives. Carol was Daryl’s first—and he was happy, honestly, that she’d be his last. He leaned into her, kissing her neck and breathing in the scent of her as they explored one another in the darkness. “I can’t wait to show you Wyoming.”


End file.
